


Azalea

by can_i_slytherin



Category: The Witcher (TV)
Genre: Childbirth, Creature Jaskier | Dandelion, Domestic Fluff, Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia Loves Jaskier | Dandelion, Immortal Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg Friendship, Jaskier | Dandelion Loves Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, M/M, Making Up, Mpreg, Post-Episode: S01E06 Rare Species, Soft Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia, Soft Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-17
Updated: 2020-11-17
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:09:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,559
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27597320
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/can_i_slytherin/pseuds/can_i_slytherin
Summary: What if Jaskier got pregnant by Geralt?
Relationships: Geralt z Rivii | Geralt of Rivia/Jaskier | Dandelion, Jaskier | Dandelion & Yennefer z Vengerbergu | Yennefer of Vengerberg
Comments: 12
Kudos: 395





	Azalea

_ If life could give me one blessing, it would be to take you off my hands.  _

The words still rang clear in his head as he stumbled along the path back down the mountain. He knew, deep down, that Geralt hadn’t meant the words, that he needed a way to get Jaskier to leave so that he could focus on his Child Surprise. But, to be so callously tossed aside had  _ hurt _ . 

Jaskier loved Geralt, that wasn’t a shock to anyone, including the both of them, but it had taken so long for him to admit and, when he had, it was in an explosion of emotion, so powerful that the very ground beneath them had quivered. 

Decades of pining had led to an intense night between the sheets, Jaskier could admit that much and the magic that coursed through his veins thrummed to life during their coupling, taking root in his abdomen, binding him and Geralt together in the most beautiful of ways. 

Whilst Witchers were infertile, Jaskier’s magic, given to him by his godly father, Dionysus, made sure that, should the correct conditions arise, he would fall pregnant, regardless of his partner’s fertility rate. It was a dangerous game to play, that was certain, but Jaskier had always kept a tight schedule, never once miscounted or lost any days.

However, Geralt always found a way to screw with his head and it wasn’t always a bad thing. 

One might argue that point now as he wandered, pregnant and alone, down the side of a rather dangerous mountain moments after the father of his baby had rudely abandoned him. But, he supposed he couldn’t give Geralt too much grief; he didn’t know after all. Jaskier himself hadn't known for many days. 

But, all rational thought aside, it was still dreadfully painful and still cut deeper than any dagger or sword ever could. 

As he stumbled blindly back down the mountain, hoping desperately that he had taken the right path, Jaskier curled his arms protectively around his stomach, whispering soft words of comfort to his unborn babe. Geralt’s abandonment aside, Jaskier would make a brilliant parent; the child would grow up showered in love and affection and forever told stories of its Witcher parent, the great Geralt of Rivia. Jaskier would never hide that from his babe, it would grow up knowing its father. 

“Well, looks like he set you free too, huh?” An all-too-familiar voice called from ahead of him. 

He fought the urge to roll his eyes; if there was one thing that Jaskier didn’t need, it was snide comments from Yennefer. So, he chose, quite rightly, mind you, to ignore her. 

“The silent treatment, Jaskier?” Yennefer said as he stalked past, keeping his head low and making it quite obvious that he was ignoring her. 

“I really don’t want to have this conversation right now, if it’s all the same to you,” he murmured, curling in on himself in an effort to hide his swollen stomach. 

Yennefer arched an eyebrow at him, dropping her gaze from his hands up to his face and back again, the cogs in her brain turning as she did. Jaskier saw the moment that the realisation dawned on her, a spark of fierceness glowing in her eyes and her lips parted in surprise. 

“You’re pregnant?!” Yennefer shrieked, eyes going wide as she stared at the barely-there bump. 

Jaskier cringed at the volume of her voice and glared half-heartedly. “I’d rather appreciate it if you didn’t tell the entire mountain.” 

She smiled sadly, a knowing sort of look in her eyes as she stepped closer to Jaskier. “Geralt doesn’t know.” 

Jaskier drew in a shuddering breath, tears pricking in his eyes, and he traced soothing circles into the skin of his stomach. “No.” 

“Jaskier,” there was something like empathy in her voice and, for once, he saw the witch as Geralt did- a kind woman, when you got to know her. “I’m so sorry.” 

Jaskier shrugged, trying to ignore the pang in his heart at her words. He refused to cry in front of Yennefer, it would only make things more complicated. 

“You know,” Yennefer hissed in a burst of anger so intense that Jaskier felt the heat from it on his face, “I’ve half a mind to trudge back up this mountain and tell Geralt what I truly think of him.”

Jaskier’s eyes went wide and he shook his head furiously. “No, please don’t. It’s better if he doesn’t know.” 

“Do you have anyone that you can go to?” Yennefer questioned, arching an eyebrow at him and crossing her arms over her chest as she waited for an answer. Jaskier shook his head. “You cannot expect to make it through this pregnancy alone?”

Jaskier shrugged, averting his gaze. “I figured that I might have Geralt with me for it, but it seems that the fates have other ideas.” 

“Yes,” Yennefer’s eyes gleamed, not in a predatory way, but in a soft, fond way, “and they dropped you straight at my feet,” she turned dramatically on her heel and stomped down the mountain. They were only a few miles from the top. “Come, bard. It looks like you’ve found yourself a midwife.”

Jaskier hurried after her, a warmth settling in his chest that he most definitely blamed on heartburn. He did not feel any sort of positive emotion toward Yennefer. Definitely not. 

  
  
  
  


Months passed by unknowingly and, soon enough, Jaskier was fit to burst, his stomach swollen to the size of a small pumpkin. 

In the days following the Mountain Incident, Yennefer had proved herself to be a worthy comrade, giving him potions and herbal remedies that would ensure that he and the babe would be healthy for the duration of the pregnancy and that he, unlike so many parents, would carry to term. 

Her chaos and potions aside, Yennefer was a genuinely nice person. Granted she had her moments of stroppiness, where she would storm from their lodgings in a fit of frustration. But, she always returned with an apologetic smile and Jaskier would always welcome her back with an eye roll and a tight hug. 

When he awoke that fateful day, however, it was to a sharp pain in his abdomen and he immediately reached out for the witch, grasping her arm in a tight grip and shaking her awake. 

“Yennefer,” he whimpered, a flash of pain making him gasp aloud. 

Yennefer startled awake at the sound of her name, gaze falling to Jaskier, who was seated at the edge of the bed, panting heavily and gripping the sheets in a tight fist. She flew off the mattress, rounding the bed to kneel on the floor at Jaskier’s feet. Yennefer rested her hands on his knees, amethyst staring into sapphire, and smiled in reassurance. 

“It’s okay,” she soothed. “I’m going to take a look. Will you lift your shirt?” 

Jaskier complied, untangling one hand from the sheets to shakily lift his shirt. “Is everything okay? Is the babe okay?” 

“I’m certain that they are fine, Jask,” Yennefer said, her voice soft and calming. “I just want to take a look, make sure that everything is as it should be. I’m just being overly cautious.” 

Jaskier nodded and closed his eyes, breathing softly through another bout of pain. “Yenn!” 

“Okay, sweet dove,” she whispered and reached for Jaskier’s hand, humming softly in encouragement when he intertwined their fingers, “you’ve gone into labour.” 

Jaskier eyes snapped open and he stared down at Yennefer, feeling giddy at the infectious excitement sparkling in her eyes. “I have?” She nodded, a wide smile spreading across her face, and he squeezed her fingers in response. “Okay, what do we do now?” 

“We get you prepared for birth,” she grinned and pulled her hand away from Jaskier’s grip, despite the noise of protest from the bard. “I’m just going to fetch some clean towels from the Innkeeper, I’ll be a few moments.” 

Jaskier felt a spike of fear at the idea of being left alone and frantically shook his head. “What if the baby comes and you’re not here?” 

Yennefer sighed softly and squeezed Jaskier’s knee before standing. “I will be, Jaskier, I promise. Just breathe through the pain and count the seconds between each contraction.” 

Jaskier nodded and drew in a deep breath through his nose before letting it out of his mouth in a rush. “Be quick.” 

Yennefer grinned at him and disappeared out the door in a hurry, still in her night things. Judging by the darkened sky outside, she wouldn’t be out of place, wandering through the corridor in naught but a nightie. 

When she returned just moments later, it was with the Innkeeper’s wife, Lena, in tow, carrying a bowl of water and multiple, soft-looking towels. “Yennefer told me that you had gone into labour.” 

Jaskier smiled at her in thanks, feeling marginally more at ease now that they were both in the room with him. Like Yennefer, Lena had become dear to him over the last few months, acting more as a mother than a friend, but he held her close to his heart in the same way. Having her in the room would undoubtedly soothe him. 

“Have you been counting?” Yennefer questioned as she took her place back at Jaskier’s feet, nudging his knees apart with her elbow. 

“Yes,” he hissed, scrambling for purchase on something when another shock of pain ran through him. Lena offered her hand to him and he took it with a grateful whine, squeezing her fingers. “They’re mere minutes apart now.” 

“Okay, let me do some final checks to see if you’re ready to start pushing,” Yennefer said, her eyes narrowed in concentration as she gave him a thorough examination. “Okay,” she pulled away briefly, “you’re still a few minutes out, yet. But, if you feel that you’re ready to push, then you are more than welcome to do so. Try to put as much energy into pushing as you can and remember to breathe.” 

Jaskier nodded and whimpered, tightening his grip on Lena’s hand, when another contraction washed over him. There was something there in him, telling him to push, but he wasn’t ready yet, so he ignored it, focusing on breathing just as Yennefer had told him to. 

On his next contraction, however, the urge to push grew stronger and he let out a choked off scream, squeezing his eyes shut and shaking his head. “I can’t do this.” 

“Yes, you can,” Yennefer soothed, “you’re stronger than you think, Jaskier. You were made for this. I’m here and I will stay with you through the entire thing. That is a promise, you are not alone.” 

Jaskier felt a pang in his chest when an image of white hair and gold eyes flitted across his mind, leaving an ache deep in his chest. He sighed heavily, not bothering to swipe away the tears that had begun to fall. It had been many months since he had thought of the Witcher, let alone seen him, but the wound in his heart was still as fresh as the day he received it. Not a day went by that he didn’t pine for his White Wolf. 

“I know, sweet dove,” Yennefer whispered, reaching up to cup his cheek and wipe away his tears. “I know. I wish he were here too. But, we have a babe to birth and we can’t do that if your head isn’t in the game. So, Jaskier, on your next contraction, I want you to push as hard as you can.” 

And push he did, with all his might. Yennefer, true to her word, stayed with him the entire time, whispering words of comfort and giving regular updates. Lena lay behind him, supporting his body weight with her knees whilst she swept his hair off his forehead, humming soft lullabies under her breath. 

It seemed like an eternity had passed before Yennefer announced that he was crowning and, even though he had a long way to go, he was  _ exhausted _ . Part of him wanted to fall in a slumber, but the other part was far too excited to meet his beautiful child. 

Jaskier kept pushing as and when Yennefer told him too and, soon enough, with a guttural scream and a heavy push, there was great relief. 

Then, oh  _ then _ , the room filled with the gorgeous cries of his newborn babe and Jaskier felt unbearably happy, his heart fit to burst and tears pouring down his cheeks. Yennefer grinned up at him and rose to her feet, a small bundle of towels cradled in her arms and, suddenly, Jaskier was holding his baby. 

He stared down at the babe, lifting a shaky hand to stroke along its nose, clearing a trait it had inherited from Geralt, and cast his gaze down to Yennefer. “What is it?” 

“A girl,” Yennefer said, eyes shining with unshed tears, and she wore a fond smile. “Meet your daughter, Jaskier.” 

“I already know what I’m going to call her,” Jaskier announced, staring down at his baby girl with his heart swelling in his chest, making it hard for him to breath. He reached out for Yennefer, pulling her down to sit beside him, and rested his head on her shoulder. “Azalea, to pay homage to my own flowery name, Yennefer, to pay homage to the witch that made my life worth living.” 

Yennefer made a choked off noise and tackled Jaskier in a hug, squeezing him tight. “You never fail to surprise me, Jaskier.” 

Azalea blinked her tiny eyes open, staring up at them innocently, and Jaskier’s breath caught in his throat. Her hair was deep brown, just like his, but her eyes, they were Geralt’s, deep and bright, like molten gold. 

“Oh, Azalea Yennefer,” Lena whispered from behind them, drawing the three of them in for a hug, “you’re going to break hearts.” 

“If she’s anything like me, then yes, she will,” Jaskier cooed, stroking his pinky down the bridge of her nose, smiling warmly as her eyes fluttered shut again. 

Azalea was only a few moments old, but Jaskier already loved her more than life itself and he vowed to give her the best upbringing that a child could have. He would protect her with everything he had and he would shower her with treats and affection, but, most importantly, he would love her. He would show her that, despite her heritage- both Witcher and godly- she was perfect and beautiful. 

  
  
  
  


Jaskie knew that it was only a matter of time before his past caught up to him; before it caught up to  _ them _ . And, one fateful evening as he pranced around the tavern, belting out his newest tune, dedicated to his babe and best friend, it did. 

The door swung open and Jaskier caught a flash of white hair from the corner of his eye. He fumbled over the strings of his lute, messing up the notes, and rushed out an apology before calling for a break. He scrambled through the crowd, his heart in his throat and half convinced that he had been seeing things, but came to a dead stop when he came face-to-face with Geralt of Rivia. 

“What are you doing here?” Jaskier ground out, trying his level best to seem angry, but he just wanted to fall into Geralt’s arms and bury his head in his neck. It had been so long since he had been this close to the Witcher and the urge to touch was growing far too strong. 

“I caught word that you were in town and needed to talk with you. Do you have somewhere private that we may go?” Geralt explained, keeping his voice low and glaring at anyone that drew too close. 

Jaskier rolled his eyes and scoffed, crossing his arms over his chest. “Give me one good reason why I should listen to you, Witcher.” 

Geralt truly looked pained at his dismissiveness. “I thought-” 

Jaskier cut him off. “Thought  _ what _ ?” He snarled, drawing himself to his full height. “That you could waltz in here, after  _ months  _ of nothing, and beg for forgiveness? Did you think I’d come running back so easily?” 

Geralt had the nerve to look bashful, casting his gaze to the floor and shrugging his shoulder softly. “You’ve never not forgiven me before.”

“Yes, but perhaps this time is different,” Jaskier replied, thinking of his baby girl just one floor above their heads. “Perhaps I am a changed man and realised my mistakes all these years. Because, after all, wasn’t it you that said it would be a blessing to get me off your hands?” 

Geralt winced and looked up at Jaskier with pleading eyes. The pure want and grief in them would’ve made him give in a few months ago, but he was stronger now. He had tougher skin- Yennefer saw to that. 

“I am truly sorry for that, Jaskier, but I didn’t mean it,” Geralt whispered, his pain evident in his voice. “I needed you to leave, I needed to focus on-”

Jaskier cut him off. “Your child surprise,” he sighed heavily and dragged a hand through his hair. “Yes, I know.” 

“Please, Jaskier,” the Witcher grumbled, “can we go somewhere private to talk this over?”

Jaskier’s head snapped towards him, his eyes sparkling with amusement. “I do so like it when you beg,” he murmured, smiling wolfishly. “Do it again.” 

“Jaskier,” Geralt said, lowering himself to kneel on the floor at Jaskier’s feet, in a tavern full of people. “ _ Julian _ , I am begging you, truly, with my entire being, that you take the time to listen to me. That you let me in, just once more so that I may make up for the wrongs that I have committed against you.” 

“It’s not just me that you have to make it up to,” at Geralt’s confused look, Jaskier rolled his eyes. “Get off the floor, you great oaf, and come with me. I have a room upstairs. There’s someone you ought to meet.”

Geralt drew himself to his feet and followed Jaskier through the tavern like an obedient dog. When Jaskier pushed the door to his room open, the first thing that he saw was the cot in beside the double bed; the second thing was a fist, flying towards his face, before it made contact with his nose, giving a sickening crunch. 

“Yenn!” Jaskier yelled. “You could’ve at least given me her first! You absolute heathen!” 

“Yennefer?” Geralt spat out, shock riddling his system as he lifted a hand to set his nose back into place. “What?” 

“You ought to sit down,” Yennefer said, her voice cold and distant. 

Geralt didn’t dare argue, taking a seat on the chair in the corner of the room. He took the time to examine the room, finding Yennefer’s things amongst Jaskier’s, a potions case next to his lute case. That in itself was odd enough, but add the baby things into the mix and Geralt’s confusion only grew. 

Then, his gaze fell to the bundle in Jaskier’s arms. There was a spot of blood on the corner of the blanket, presumably from when Yennefer had been holding it as she punched him. 

“Is that-?” He couldn’t find the right words. 

“A child?” Yennefer supplied, narrowing her eyes into a glare. “Yes.” 

“Jaskier,” Geralt turned his attention to the bard. “Is it-?” 

“ _ She _ ,” Jaskier emphasised the pronoun, “is mine.” 

“Yours?” Geralt repeated, just to be certain that he had heard it correctly. “Is she, um, how did she-? Do you know her father?” 

Jaskier shared a look with Yennefer, as if seeking guidance, and she gave him a brief nod, but cocked her head to the side after, as if asking a silent question. Whatever it was, Jaskier agreed and she rose onto her tiptoes to press a kiss to his cheek before disappearing out of the room, glaring at Geralt the entire time. 

“I do,” Jaskier replied once they were alone. “Know her father, that is,” Geralt opened his mouth as if to speak and Jaskier cut him off before he had the chance to. “Before you ask, no, she isn’t the product of a one-night-stand.”

Geralt fell silent for a moment, brow furrowed and head tilted to the side in confusion, but he soon straightened, rising out of his chair and taking a careful step towards Jaskier. “Is she-? Did we-? Mine?” 

“Geralt,” Jaskier breathed, holding out the child for Geralt to take, and smiled warmly when Geralt took her, a look of such adoration in his eyes as he stared down at her sleeping face, “meet your daughter, Azalea Yennefer Pankratz.” 

“She’s-” Geralt cut himself off mid-sentence, voice tight with emotion and eyes shining with tears. He had a fond smile on his lips, similar to the one that Jaskier had worn when he first held her. “Jaskier, she’s the most precious thing. But-” 

Jaskier cut him off again, already knowing his question before he had the chance to ask it. “I’m the offspring of the fertility god, Geralt, your fertility level doesn’t matter.” 

Geralt nodded and cast his gaze back to Azalea, softly swaying his hips as he lifted his hand, stroking a finger across her eyebrows and down her nose. “She’s mine? You’re certain?” 

As if on cue, Azalea blinked awake, staring up at Geralt with eyes that matched his own and, suddenly, there was no denying her lineage. She, undoubtedly, was Geralt’s child. Geralt gasped, blinking owlishly, and a bright smile spread across his face, the love in his eyes only deepening. 

“Who knew that the Witcher’s eyes could be so beautiful?” Geralt murmured, mostly to Azalea, but Jaskier heard him. 

“I did,” he whispered in response. “I do. Every time that I look at her, I’m reminded of you and I don’t know if that’s a blessing or a curse because I see you in her and it brings back the good memories, but also the bad ones.”

Geralt’s head snapped upwards and he tore his gaze away from Azalea to lock eyes with Jaskier. The love and affection held within them didn’t waver for a moment. “Jaskier,” Geralt said his name with such devotion, like he had hung the very stars, and it set a fire in his stomach. “I will spend the rest of my days making up for my mistakes and treating you as you deserve to be treated. I came here today, to find you so that I could ask you to travel to Kaer Morhen with me. Cirilla, my child surprise, she needs someone like you in her life. There is only so much that I can give her and I fear that I may ruin her if she is not given the correct attention. If anyone can do that, it’s you.” 

Jaskier blinked in surprise, staring blankly at Geralt. “What?” 

“Come to Kaer Morhen with me,” Geralt stated, “help me to raise Ciri, so that she may grow to be a beautiful young woman, and help me get to know Azalea, my blood child. Let me be a part of her life as I would let you be a part of Ciri’s.” 

Jaskier snapped himself out of his trance and stepped forward, placing one hand on his babe’s forehead whilst the other came to rest on Geralt’s cheek. The Witcher nuzzled his palm, eyes slipping shut, and he rearranged Azalea in his arms so that he had a spare hand, allowing him to pull Jaskier impossibly close. 

“You don’t give yourself enough credit, my Wolf,” Jaskier said, his voice low and soft so as to not scare Geralt away. “I’m sure the child is perfectly brutish by now and thus I will have no choice but to come and save her from your neanderthalic ways.” 

Geralt let out a snort of amusement and tipped his forehead forward so that it rested against Jaskier’s. “Will you come?” 

“Two conditions,” Jaskier whispered, eyes bright with mischief. 

“Anything,” Geralt growled out. 

“The first, Yennefer comes too. I’ve grown quite attached to her in these months,” Geralt gave a hum of agreement. “The second, I get to ride Roach.” 

“Of course,” Geralt agreed, reaching a hand up to brush a lock of hair behind Jaskier’s ear before he did the same to Azalea. “I meant what I said, I’ll give you anything.”

“Don’t say that too often, you never know what I’ll ask for,” Jaskier teased. 

Geralt let out a displeased growl. “No, whatever it is, I’ll gladly give it to you.” 

“I know, darling,” Jaskier pressed a gentle kiss between his brows. “I’m just teasing you.” 

The bard stepped away and Geralt made a noise of disagreement, reaching out to grab Jaskier’s wrist and hold him in place. Jaskier grinned, a toothy thing that reached his eyes, and glanced down at Azalea, worming his wrist out of Geralt’s grip before pitching himself forward to press another kiss between his brows. 

“Stay here with Azalea,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “Make up for lost time. I’m only going to find Yennefer, I’ll be back, I promise.” 

Despite months apart and all the change, Geralt believed him, but, mostly importantly, Jaskier believed himself. 

  
  
  
  


**_Five Years Later_ **

The sound of hooves on the gravel outside the gates of Kaer Morhen jerked Jaskier out of his slumber and he found a sudden weight on his chest. As he blinked his eyes open, the room came into focus and Azalea, now a bright and healthy five-year-old, stared down at him with eyes so like her father’s. 

“Papa!” She shrieked in excitement, wriggling with the extensive energy coursing through her veins. “Daddy’s home!” 

Jaskier grinned, warmth settling in his chest that had nothing to do with his daughter sitting on his ribcage. “Is he?” 

“Yes!” Azalea yelled, eyes wide with desperation. “Can we  _ please  _ go find Auntie Yenn and meet him at the door?!” 

Jaskier pretended to think about it for a moment before breaking out into an even wider grin. “Of course, help me up, Azzie. I feel like a mountain troll.” 

“Papa!” She murmured, rolling her eyes in exasperation. 

“When you’re my age, darling flower, and you have children of your own, you’ll understand my pain,” Jaskier rolled himself out of bed, one hand on his swollen stomach whilst the other gripped onto the bed post for stability. 

After learning, in depth, the specifics of Jaskier’s magic and biology, it hadn’t taken long for Geralt to bring up the topic of having another child. Jaskier had readily agreed, he’d always wanted a large family and who better to have it with than the love of his life? But, as always, there were conditions. Geralt needed to  _ make an honest man out of him _ before he even considered having more children. 

The consequent ceremony had been intimate, just them and their loved ones in the halls of Kaer Morhen, and, afterwards, Geralt saw to it that they would try for another child, as Jaskier had promised. It had taken a while for it to catch, but here he was, seven months later, a ring on his finger and a babe in his stomach, feeling happier than he ever had, even despite his and Geralt’s dark pasts.

His happiness, in the end, all boiled down to one simple reason. He finally had a family. 

**Author's Note:**

> This was my first mpreg, so please don't hesitate to leave comments and/or kudos!   
> Hope you enjoyed!   
> Happy Reading!


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